"He wants to know, pa, if thar's a short cut from the ornary over to
Jordan's Journey," he repeated.
Old Adam, who had sucked patiently at the stem of his pipe during the
explanation, withdrew it at the end, and thrust out his lower lip as a
child does that has stopped crying before it intended to.
"You can take a turn to the right at the blazed pine a half a mile on,"
he replied, "but thar's the bars to be pulled down an' put up agin."
"I jest come along thar, an' the bars was down," said young Adam.
"Well, they hadn't ought to have been," retorted old Adam, indignantly.
"Bars is bars whether they be public or private, an' the man that pulls
'em down without puttin' 'em up agin, is a man that you'll find to be
loose moraled in other matters."
"It's the truth as sure as you speak it, Mr. Doolittle," said a wiry,
knocked-kneed farmer, with a hatchet-shaped face, who had sidled up to
the group. "It warn't no longer than yesterday that I was sayin' the
same words to the new minister, or rector as he tries to get us to call
him, about false doctrine an' evil practice. 'The difference between
sprinklin' and immersion ain't jest the difference between a few drips
on the head an' goin' all under, Mr.
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